


So Long, Lonesome

by OnTheTurningAway



Category: Social Network (2010) RPF
Genre: Ficlet, Fluff, M/M, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-21
Updated: 2011-08-21
Packaged: 2017-10-30 10:35:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/330793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnTheTurningAway/pseuds/OnTheTurningAway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andrew awakens to a pleasant surprise on his birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Long, Lonesome

**Author's Note:**

> A tiny bit of fluff written for a friend's birthday
> 
> Many thanks to my beta [ArcadianMaggie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcadianMaggie/pseuds/ArcadianMaggie).
> 
> Disclaimer: The characters in this ficlet are not real. They just bear a remarkable resemblance to people who I like to look at pretty pictures of on the internet.

\---

Andrew stirs, burying his face under a pillow to drown out the pounding in his head. A quick peek at his clock tells him it’s shortly after ten - a reasonable time to wake up on a Saturday, especially when it’s your birthday and the person you want to share it with is on the other side of the country. The weather is grey, drizzly and perfect for sleeping in. While he’s tired (he’s always so tired these days) and a little morose about waking up alone, he’d gotten home early the night before and doesn’t feel hungover.  
  
He rubs his eyes and shakes the fog of sleep from his mind. It’s only then Andrew realizes the pounding he thought was in his head is actually a timid but insistent knocking sound.  
  
Andrew shuffles down the hall and slips a hand under his tee shirt to absentmindedly scratch his stomach. He leans against the doorframe and cracks the door open, mouth agape when he sees who is standing on the other side.  
  
“Hi,” Jesse says, a shy smile gracing his lips. “Surprise?”  
  
It takes Andrew a few seconds to gather his wits. He simultaneously tries to yank the door open with one hand and pull Jesse into the apartment with the other, realizing too late that the chain is still on. He huffs in frustration and gestures for Jesse to wait a second before closing the door and fumbling with the lock.  _Finally,_ Andrew flings the door all the way open and gives Jesse a once-over before tugging him into his arms.  
  
Jesse relaxes into Andrew’s body immediately. He wraps his arms tightly around Andrew’s waist and tucks his head under his chin.  
  
Andrew leans in and buries his face in the curve of Jesse’s neck. Despite the flat, stale scent of re-circulated airplane air, he can still smell his Jesse if he breathes deep enough. “Jess?” he asks, incredulous. “What…how? I thought–”  
  
“It’s your birthday,” Jesse answers. “I took the weekend off, got on the first flight out this morning and took the bus from the airport.”  
  
“But what about the movie press and your play?” Andrew asks.  
  
“It’s your birthday,” Jesse repeats, as if it’s the simplest answer in the world. He tips his head up and presses his lips to Andrew’s in a chaste kiss.  
  
Jesse’s lips are dry from the flight and it’s only when they kiss that Andrew notices he’s shivering. Andrew is still sleep-warm and rumpled. His pajamas are twisted and bunched at the waist and he’s only wearing one sock (the other, he assumes, is lost somewhere in the tangle of his sheets). In contrast, Jesse’s lips are chapped and his skin is cool to the touch. His curls are damp and flattened from walking in the rain from the bus stop to Andrew’s apartment. Jesse’s icy fingers wriggle their way underneath the back of Andrew’s shirt.  
  
As if by instinct, Andrew bundles Jesse closer, crowding him against the door and enveloping him in the warmth of his embrace. The cool wetness from Jesse’s shirt begins to dampen his own, but it couldn’t be less important when he has his Jesse this close.  
  
“I’ve missed you,” he whispers into Jesse’s hair. “I’m so glad you’re here.”


End file.
